


Dirty Little Secret

by baku_midnight



Series: Daryl Dixon Queerbaiting Revenge Party [8]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Shane Walsh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Daryl Dixon, Self-Lubrication, Small Towns, as dubious as the rest of this series, okay so those are tags now eh, weird small town stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 22:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: Shane would consider himself familiar with everyone in town, AND their dirty laundry. So when a stranger with a unusual scent shows up one day, he's intrigued to say the least.





	Dirty Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck this stupid show.

One of the perks of small-town civil-service life was knowing who everyone was. Being privy to everyone’s secret undersides gave Shane a sense of power that he thrived on, held onto deep down inside where it sweltered like the late summer heat.

 

He knew that the little beta lady who ran the Stop-n-Shop off the off-ramp, who always smoked around the backside of the building, used to turn tricks for beers and collectible NFL-themed mugs. He knew that the school superintendent, a squeaky-clean alpha sexagenarian and family man, got caught for soliciting and narrowly escaped jail time, unbeknownst to his family and friends. He knew just about everyone in town had their own dirty little secret, knew it because it was his job, and it made him better at his job _to_ know it.

 

Knowing the faces of those who had to be looked out for helped him round up the riff-raff, the criminal asshole fucks ain’t got no business livin’ in peace just that much quicker, that much more efficiently. He knew just what to look for, where to go when things got ugly. One such criminal asshole fuck was called Dixon, and Shane’d just spotted his truck from his speed trap on the highway, before driving away with one hand on the wheel and the other on the radio, shouting into the box and rushing off in quick pursuit.

 

Merle Dixon was a grade-D criminal if ever there was, on and off the radar for assault and possession but nothing ever big enough to convict. The alpha always waltzed out of lockup with a sly grin on his miserable face, flashing Shane and the other sheriffs his pearly whites as he was let loose yet again thanks to a lack of evidence and a beyond-all-reasoning military record. How that twisted prick got let in the army was a mystery to Shane, who sneered as he turned out into the fast lane and switched on his siren and lights.

 

Surprisingly, Dixon pulled over without a fuss, lights on the old navy-blue pick-up clicking off, spluttering engine going quiet as Shane pulled up behind. He climbed out of the car and adjusted his belt, squaring up for a confrontation and almost disappointed when he saw the driver wasn’t Dixon, but someone else. Someone who looked and smelled like a complete mess of hormones, a pile-up of exotic tobacco and sweetened condensed milk, probably a beta or lightly-presenting omega, much unlike the putrid alpha Shane was expecting.

 

He was younger than Dixon by maybe a decade, with narrow, furious blue eyes and a sneer on his small lips. His thin hair was dirty, the skin of his forehead slicked a little with sweat. Shane couldn’t get a read on him, didn’t know him, didn’t know what was hiding underneath him. He was a mystery, a welcome challenge and a source of some major frustration at the same time.

 

“Well, well, lookit here,” Shane droned, strolling up to the driver’s side window with a leisurely gait, chuckling at the way the man’s glare darkened. “I recognize the rust bucket, but not the asshole drivin’ it. How ’bout I get your license and registration, huh?”

 

He rested his elbow on the roof of the truck and leaned in to take a whiff of the inside while the man reached across the seat to find his papers, grumbling something low. Shane couldn’t smell much over the conflicting pheromone scents, but what he sensed underneath was pungent, like THC oil. Hell, that _had_ to be what it was. He tried to hide the grin that struck across his face.

 

“Forget it, you can go ahead and step out the car, man,” Shane announced, smacking the door of the truck with the heel of his hand. The man glared at him and continued to fish around in the compartment in between the front seats.

 

“I got ’m in here, I said,” he complained, but Shane smacked the door again, barking out a harsh “ _now!_ ”

 

The man shoved the truck door open none-too carefully, pushing Shane out of the way as the corroded metal swung aside, admitting a tall, rough-looking sombitch with thick, tan arms peeking out of a sleeveless shirt. Shane reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled it behind his back, disarming him lightning-fast and slamming him into the hood of the truck before he had a chance to react.

 

“What the hell, man?!” the man cursed, but didn’t struggle, to Shane’s disappointment, “I didn’t do nothin’!”

 

“You didn’t, huh?” Shane bargained back, quickly feeling the man up for a weapon, finding none, and pressing him forward over the hood. “This here’s Merle Dixon’s truck. Don’t suppose you know him?”

 

“Merle’s my brother,” the man growled, twisting a little as Shane gestured his hands up over his head by nudging the elbows forward.

 

Shane could almost laugh. The filth had a brother? He wondered how much worse the sibling could be. “Oh yeah? And which one are you?”

 

“Daryl,” the man hissed, gripping the edge of the radiator intake with white knuckles, growling like an animal as Shane checked him a second time and a third for weapons. Shane squeezed his narrow hips, patted down under his armpits, half displaying his power and half trying to get a read on the mysterious beta—or was he an alpha? His scent was mangled as if misused, disguised by dirt and sweat, and his body shape really didn’t paint a clear picture, either. But one thing was clear—if he was related to Merle Dixon, he was bad news, or at least his truck was.

 

“Whatchu got in the truck, Daryl?” Shane asked as he walked around to the driver’s side door and leaned inside. The strange scent flooded his nostrils again and Shane’s brow furled in concentration as he tried to follow it, but it was fleeting. On the hood, Daryl was complaining, cursing but staying put rather than risk arrest. He seemed plenty used to the position, head down on the hot metal, bent at the waist, practically presenting. Shane sneered.

 

“Ain’t got nothin’ in there!” Daryl shouted, as Shane nosed through the truck. He wasn’t technically allowed to search anywhere his eyes couldn’t reach without a warrant, but he figured he’d find the drugs, weapons or whatever nasty thing the braindead big brother was porting and _then_ figure out how he discovered it. But to his disappointment, he wasn’t finding anything. Piles of old fast-food and candy wrappers poured out from under the seat like fallen leaves, along with receipts, disposable cups, and enough tools to jack a car in minutes, but nothing to point to as concrete evidence of the Dixons’ culpability.

 

Shane scoffed, climbing back out and onto the boiling pavement. He pressed himself over Daryl instead, pinning him from hand to foot, breathing down his neck.

 

“I know you’re bad news, yis you are,” Shane muttered, feeling Daryl flinch beneath him but not budge. By now, if it were his idiot brother in his place, Shane would’ve already received an elbow to the teeth, and hopefully sent a few back in return. “And you know how I know? Because your dickhead brother, and your degenerate father. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, you know that, right? So I know you’re up to somethin’. ’Nother no-good Dixon. So why don’t you tell me what you’re up to, huh? What’s your story?”

 

Daryl snarled as Shane pressed down against him, pushing up threateningly behind him with his hips. Shane could feel all of Daryl’s muscles going tense but he didn’t give an inch. By now, the pressure of righteous anger was building up in Shane, like a physical pain, like a cramp, a bruise, a circle of barbed wire cutting into his flesh. He wanted Dixon to give him something, anything to grab onto, but Daryl wasn’t budging. Unlike his brother, he knew better than to spit in the eye of a sheriff who was leaning over his neck like a tiger ready to deliver the final blow. Shane was rippling for a fight, but he wasn’t gonna be the one to start something he couldn’t justify.

 

Shane sniffled, thumbed his nose and finally released his grip on the sinewy beta, or whatever he was. “Alright, git,” he ordered, and Daryl slid from him, standing at the side of the hood, glaring at him like a soaked house cat.

 

“Go on now, git goin’,”he ordered, waving his arms as if to shoo Daryl away, “’fore I change my mind.”

 

Daryl sneered before heading cautiously back to the truck, crunching the creaky door lock and climbing in.

 

“You tell your brother I said ‘hi’, will ya?” Shane called as Daryl started the rattling engine and drove off, shouting “pig” out the open window as he did.

 

Shane laughed, unvented anger spilling awkwardly to the surface in one swift kick. He felt his face go red, stroked his hair to calm down, scrubbing his nails across the scalp. Shit, fuck. Not only had he _not_ gotten the fight he’d so craved, he’d learned nothing about the younger Dixon but that he had only slightly less of the temper and eloquence of his older sibling. His dirty secret, whatever it was—and he _did_ have one—remained sealed as he drove off down the highway.

 

Shane’s indignant flush didn’t go away, not after pacing around his car and eventually hunkering down to glare at his reflection in the rear-view, and he started to realize why he was so itching for a fight. Monthly rut was coming soon, and his hormones were raring to go. He needed a cold shower or a good fuck. He put the hopeless Daryl Dixon from his mind and drove off, leaving dust trailing after him.

 

*

 

The second perk of living in a small town was that it put everyone—alphas and omegas both—on the same cycle. As chaotic, and frankly _disgusting_ as that might’ve sounded, it was actually pretty fuckin’ efficient, not to mention just a good ol’ bonding experience for the whole town. Well, at least for the unmated alphas and omegas, it was. For five days a month, half the population was drowsy on sex hormones and too interested in bonin’ to get in any trouble, making Shane’s job a little easier, and one day a month, there was big ol’ fuck-fest took place down the hill in the old barn where singles paired up and fucked the night away.

 

The one-month mark hit and, as quick as the moon turning across the sky, switches went off in both genders, with betas caught in the middle as the only-sane-men and -women in a suburb filled with horny psychos. Opportunistic betas could stand to make a killing as matchmakers, setting pairs up when the time came and everyone unmated was desperate to couple.

 

The monthly get-together couldn’t come early enough for Shane, who’d been in rut for two days before it came, and finally, leaving work Friday evening he loosened his shirt collar and held his nose in the air to take a good whiff. The smell of heat was thick in the air, aseasonal perfume, wisteria and caramel, trickling off of the omegas in the office and filling the precinct with pleasant vibes. The scent wasn’t so thick as to turn alphas desperate, drooling, dry-humping messes: the workplace omegas hadn’t gotten there, yet. Most omegas took the day off when their heat was the worst, at that time unable to concentrate on _anything_ other than mating, much less handing out parking tickets and filing incident reports.

 

The night of the monthly gathering had finally arrived and Shane was ready to go, about to leave the office when he offered Rick, a fellow alpha, though mated, one last chance to join him.

 

“Naw, I gotta get home to Lori,” the sheriff mumbled, bowing his head a little. He’d married a beta really early on after high school, for whatever reason, and had a kid with her, too. How he settled his ruts alone Shane didn’t know, and didn’t really care now that the chance to wet his knot was nigh.

 

“Alright, don’t know what yer missin’,” Shane replied, offering Rick a wave as they went to their cars. As Rick sped home to his beta and as-yet unbloomed son, Shane travelled south, down the freeway to the old barn, heat prickling his skin in delicious anticipation.

 

When he arrived at the barn, a pair of huge beta bouncer-types flanked him, patting him down for weapons before letting him pass. Though the intrusion to his person was unpleasant Shane understood the precaution; alphas got pretty wild during ruts—to say nothing of _omegas_ —and violence wasn’t unheard of. An alpha trying to get at a scenting omega was unstoppable, a cannonball of pent-up force and rage, out of his or her mind with the delirious need to breed.

 

Shane stepped inside the barn, and was nearly blown off his feet by the smell. The raging, pulsing scents of about a hundred omegas, all in the middle throes of heat, warred inside the musty structure, scents of jasmine, tobacco, bourbon, butter caramel and other delicious, implacable, wild smells flooded through the barn like waves, sending Shane’s heartbeat skyrocketing, a fiery warmth filling his chest, tightening in his belly, and wrapping right around his dick and throbbing knot.

 

“Ah, hello there, sheriff,” a curious beta named Ace appeared and called to Shane, waltzing over, trailing the leash of an omega, who walked a few steps behind him. The omega’s wrists were shackled and a thin collar was around his neck, attached to a leash that beta held. “Come to whet your whistle?”

 

“You know it,” Shane chuckled over the din. He looked the omega up and down. He was thin and sweet, but nearly out of his mind with heat. The restraints weren’t actually to keep him escaping—alpha-omega couplings were rarely forced; despite being a small town they were nowhere near so old-fashioned or barbaric—but to keep the omega from utterly losing control. Unmated omegas in heat could be a _nightmare_ —they remained rooted to the spot from the time they first presented, mindlessly lifting their hips and releasing pheromones for an alpha to come and find them, and they sometimes were brutally difficult to interrupt when doing so. They scratched and fought anything that impeded their chances to mate, single-minded until the process was complete.

 

The barn was filled with omegas in similar states, some restrained, others moaning, panting desperately and pawing at themselves as they awaited their mates. Mostly females and a small percentage of males, the reverse being true of the alphas who lined up near the front wall, the most of _them_ male and a small part female.

 

Shane watched as an omega, apparently recognizing her partner, practically sprinted over to a burly alpha and leapt into his arms, where he took her away to couple, undressing her as he walked. A male omega, with long, soft-looking straight hair, bound at the wrists but still looking fairly in control, walked over to his partner, an alpha, who beckoned him with a curl of a finger. The couples paired off and went home, if they could wait that long, or else just mated outside the barn on the grass, unconcerned for the propriety of it and just desperate to sate their twin hungers. In a few dark corners of the barn, couples were fucking on piles of hay and make-shift beds made of horse blankets and clothes.

 

“What can I get for you today, Mr. Walsh?” Ace asked, gesturing over his shoulder, “hungry for anything in particular?”

 

Shane thought a moment, trying his best to keep patient while his hormones begged him to just get on with it, grab the nearest omega, flip them over and drive his knot right in. “Somethin’ feisty. Someone with a bit of fight in ’em, s’what I need.”

 

Ace’s eyes brightened and he nodded, dashing off, saying, “oh, I have just the thing!” As his thick backside bounded off into the fray, Shane envied the beta for being able to stay lucid in such a lustful throng. Shane’s dick was practically wailing at him to just hurry up and choose, breed, and knot.

 

The beta came back into view seconds later trailing a male omega behind him, who had his hands bound and a gag in his mouth. The restraints, again, were typically to protect the omega from hurting him or herself in their feral state, but this one actually looked like he could be a threat even to an _alpha_. It was unusual to see an omega with such thick arm muscles, the veins standing up on his forearms, thick chest heaving with breath, keen eyes warm blue and—

 

“Dixon?” Shane couldn’t help but say aloud, and the omega’s narrow eyes widened before settling into a glare as he recognized the alpha before him. It was the younger Dixon, all trussed up and radiating heat so strong and pungent, like the hardest whiskey, Shane was surprised he could stay standing.

 

So _this_ was Daryl Dixon’s dirty little secret.

 

“Caught this one trying to leave town on the highway,” Ace explained, shaking his head, “poor thing practically fainted in the car; handlers found him lying there barely sensible, all dehydrated from holding it in for so long. He’s been in heat nearly four days.”

 

Shane couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the sight of Daryl Dixon all tied up, standing before him. It was delicious irony, just the sort he needed. The one man he couldn’t figure out had the biggest open secret. Shane couldn’t help but laugh. He reached out for the omega’s lead.

 

“So you’ll take him?” Ace asked, pulling the rope aside, the rough jolt making Daryl flinch and stumble.

 

“Yeah,” Shane mumbled, vision clouding as his pupils dilated in the dark, anxious lust flooding his veins, a surge of chemicals like no other. The monthly rut seemed to hit him harder every time, presently spurred on further by the bouquet of omegas in heat that surrounded him. “I’ll take ’im.”

 

*

 

Shane shuffled Daryl into the passenger seat of his squad car, almost laughing at the coincidence and at the way Daryl bucked and squirmed in his seat like a wild cat. He pried out the gag but left Daryl’s hands bound, for his own safety _and_ that of his soon-to-be mate.

 

“Well, well, well,” Shane mumbled, “how long this been goin’ on?”

 

“Fuck off,” Daryl barked back, eyes crimson in the rear view mirror. His skin was flushed and sweaty; he looked exhausted from bearing his heat for so long, struggling hard against his impulses. Shane couldn’t help but think about how long this might’ve been going on, how many heats the man tried in vain to ignore.

 

“Hold on, there’s no reason to be like that,” Shane drawled, flicking his gaze into the mirror as he turned onto the main street. “I know y’all want this too, ain’t nothin’ t’ be ashamed of. S’just nature.”

 

Daryl didn’t answer for a while, face going even more crimson, if that were possible. He chewed at his bottom lip and frowned out through the windshield.

 

“You gonna do this, just do it already,” he complained, the crack in his voice belying his want. There was no omega who was unaffected by his heats. None. How—or why this one avoided mating for so long was a question Shane wanted an answer to.

 

“Naw, naw,” he uttered, watching Daryl’s expression deflate just a little before he glared again, trying desperately to hide how much he desired the connection he was promised. “We’re gonna get home first. We’re gonna do this right.”

 

The rest of the car ride was nearly impossible, with Dixon releasing a fresh wave of scent every few seconds, new smells, like hard bourbon, sun-heated roses, and caramelized sugar. Shane had to bite his lip hard to keep from pulling the car over to the side of the road, wrenching open the back door, pulling Dixon’s backside out and mounting it hard.

 

When they got to his house, Shane unlocked the front door with a practiced flick and expected to Daryl to join him inside, but the man remained in the car. Shane remembered the omega who _leapt_ into her alpha’s arms and started kissing the ghost out of him, and raised an eyebrow at Daryl.

 

“Whassa matter, huh?” Shane asked, rounding the backseat and poking his head inside, “you think Ima hurt you? I tell you what, you’re hurtin’ yourself way more sittin’ here in heat, not doin’ nothin’ about it.”

 

“Pig,” Daryl huffed, and Shane frowned.

 

“So that’s it, huh? Don’t like cops?” he reached in and pulled Daryl out of the car by his arm, the omega struggling but eventually yielding, his hard muscles turning to jelly as a sluice of slick poured down his legs when he stood, soaking his jeans. Shane couldn’t help but wolf-whistle, dragging Daryl beside him up the step and into the house.

 

Daryl peered around the house like a stray cat, unused to domesticity. Shane watched his black-blown eyes before giving him a once-over, letting his gaze travel across the breadth of his shoulders, down to his ass and obvious hardness.

 

“Pick your nest: the couch, the bed? The floor? Where you want it?” Shane asked. His restraint was barely contained, but he had a desire even more powerful than mating: the desire to know, to understand what Daryl was hiding. How come he’d never seen the guy at the monthly meeting before? He looked old enough to have faced heat dozens of times before, so why didn’t Shane recognize his scent? Did he have a full-time mate before? If so, what happened to that one? Was he restricted from mating by other means?

 

Daryl just shrugged, glaring at his shoes. He scratched at his hand, wrists still restrained. Heat poured off of him, but he seemed content to ignore it.

 

Shane grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the bedroom.

 

Daryl struggled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he walked, trying to keep his knees together to prevent another fresh slosh of slick dripping down his legs. He fought as Shane held him against the wall, pushing into him with his hips from behind, running hands up and down his taut frame. Despite his protestations, the omega practically melted into his touch, going slack all over as fingers smoothed down his obliques, his shuddering abdominals and slightly soft tummy. Still at breeding age, maybe, Shane noted, as he petted the omega’s belly with a sly smile.

 

“I wanna know how come I ain’t seen you before. I’ve been to every single meeting since I was eighteen, and I haven’t scented you once.”

 

Daryl squirmed frantically as Shane flicked open his jeans and yanked down his pants, finding no underwear beneath and salivating afresh. He pushed two fingers inside the omega’s dripping fuck-hole and revelled in the warmth of his pungent slick. The dark pucker opened and clenched softly at his fingers, as if trying to pull them in. Daryl grunted.

 

“Here’s how I see it, you tell me if I’m right at all,” Shane began, and without a second more of hesitation, drove his aching, hard cock up inside Daryl’s slick body.

 

Daryl yelped and went rigid, slackening again in seconds and sinking against the wall. Shane could feel the resistance of an omega who hadn’t been mated in months—maybe years—melt out of him like butter on a hot sidewalk. Dixon shuddered all over as he held Shane’s cock inside him, clenching meekly around the shaft before loosening and giving it free reign to spear up inside him.

 

“I figure, you got fucked when you were too young, you weren’t ready for it,” Shane mumbled over Daryl’s shoulder, sliding a finger around Daryl’s stretched perineum, enjoying the way it went taut as he slid out and then pushed back in. He imagined a soft, shaky teenage Dixon, all skinny limbs and messy hair in his eyes, bending over for an alpha who pushed him way too hard, way too fast, used him like a sleeve and left him aching and whining with a hand over his belly, fearing the worst. “Been too afraid to fuck ever since.”

 

Daryl didn’t answer, just clenched tight around Shane’s thick shaft and dormant knot, catching a yelp in his throat as Shane thrust in slow and unrelenting.

 

“Young alphas, they can be rough, I know it. I seen it all, man—sometimes these young alphas, when they knot for the first time, they panic and pull out too fast, end up tearing their omegas all up,” Shane explained, casually placing a hand on the wall while keeping the other on Daryl’s hip, holding him steady. He wasn’t the wreck that the nervous omega was; he was used to rutting and knew his body was meant for this. The way the wayward omega’s insides accepted his cock without protest confirmed his prowess, and drove him closer to satisfaction. It was a long way off, yet, however.

 

“But you’re ready for it, now, you can take it—you’re a big boy now, ain’t ya?” Shane punctuated the comment with a thick thrust that speared him in so deep he could actually feel resistance, and Daryl twitched as he came, body heaving and splattering the wall with a dollop of cum.

 

“Fuck, man,” Shane laughed, pulling out and watching as Daryl slunk down the wall and to his knees, “you really needed that, hey?”

 

“S-shut up,” Daryl whispered, shivering through his orgasm, but Shane didn’t give him a much of a respite, dragging him to his feet and throwing him onto the bed with his knees on the floor and chest on the mattress. Daryl barely resisted, and Shane pulled him out of his shackles, letting him stretch his arms around the edges of the bed.

 

“Okay, so I got another theory,” Shane explained, kneeling and pressing his cock against Daryl’s cleft. He rubbed the narrow channel up and down, enjoying the slick slide in counterpoint to the crushing heat of his entrance. He allowed himself to enjoy the smoothness while Daryl panted below him, arching his back and lifting his rear, asking unconsciously for another penetration that Shane wouldn’t give. Not yet. Not until he figured this out.

 

“You was part of one of them religious cults that doesn’t believe in mating before bonding,” Shane mumbled, shoving Daryl’s shoulder down when he tried to lift up and glare at him, “one of those creepy, backwoods-y religions that believes in locking omegas up when they’re in heat, thinks heat is a punishment from God for their sins. Fuck, man, I seen it _all_. Busted up one of them cults a few years back, found a bunch of omegas locked up in a cellar in _constant_ heat. Just…kept ’em like that, before finally mating them off to whoever they decided. Sometimes two or three omegas to one alpha. Fuckin’ wild, man.”

 

Shane remembered the smell of them, when they’d busted open their “pen”, the mewling, begging omegas, brainwashed into thinking their only purpose in life was to wait for an alpha to take them and bond them, fuck them and fill them with baby after baby. It was disgusting, and Shane and a few of the other alphas on the squad had barely held back beating the shit out of their complacent beta jailers and alpha captors rather than taking them in, but there was another impulse he’d felt back then, too. He knew that he and some of the other alphas had wanted to mate those omegas right then and there, with the way they were begging and crying for it. It was nearly impossible to overcome the urge and to turn the lot over to the paramedics instead.

 

“Fuck off, I ain’t no religious kook,” Daryl barked, suddenly level-headed enough to retort in full sentences, signalling to Shane that he wasn’t doing his job right. He squeezed Daryl’s hips and then sunk down between his cheeks, pushing his face in between and sucking the slick out of the hole he’d been in moments ago.

 

Daryl hissed and scrambled his hands out on the mattress, scratching at the coverlet and shaking as Shane ate him out. Shane tilted his chin down, spreading Daryl’s ass with his hands.

 

“Alright, then, _mm,_ maybe you had an alpha all this time,” Shane said, mouth sloppy with slick, the buzz of his voice making Daryl whimper. “Pretty shitty one, though. Didn’t even claim you.”

 

“Or, oh wait…” Shane paused, aware that every time his attention strayed from Dixon’s needy body, the omega was left wanting, and would whimper his frustration. He wiped a dribble of slick from his chin, rubbing his stubble against the soft skin between Daryl’s cleft, the strip white from never seeing the sun. “You got two alphas back home. Maybe they were the ones claimed you first. Your scummy daddy, and that piece-of-shit big brother. I’ll bet he filled you up nice and tight, huh?”

 

Shane punctuated the tease by plunging three fingers inside Daryl’s aching channel, making him howl and whip around.

 

“Fuck you, he ain’t never touched me!” Daryl’s face was bright red, his cheeks and nose highlighted and his narrow eyes fierce and somehow charming, even when he was annoyed. Shane jabbed at his prostate and the protestations ceased, replaced with quiet little ah, ah, _ah_ s.

 

Shane smirked and stood, delivering a sharp smack to Daryl’s ass. He jolted, but his hips tipped up just the same, presenting in every way but vocally. Instead, Daryl bit into the coverlet, his hands practically shaking, the broadness of his shoulders and length of his back drawing Shane’s attention like an arrow pointing.

 

He pulled Daryl’s ratty shirt up his back, exposing him. Dixon’s back was covered in scars, some old but some alarmingly knew, giving Shane his final hint.

 

“Aw, but it is about them, ain’t it?” Shane remarked, taking himself in hand and guiding his tip to Daryl’s waiting entrance. He prodded the hole, still small and tight despite being worked over once, making Shane practically salivate at the thought of his knot stretching the little pucker wide. He settled to his knees behind Daryl, so he was able to lean over and lick a stripe up his spine, suck at his shoulder blades, and the side of his neck, the prime spot to leave a permanent mark. He knew the prospect of being claimed made the omega’s blood heat, as Daryl let out a shudder that ran through his entire body like an electric shock.

 

“It’s all about them, them two big, pushy, alpha freaks,” Shane pushed against Daryl but still didn’t enter him, his restraint slowly waning as he felt the pucker contract as he rubbed across it. Coated in slick up to the wrists; this was how it should be. “They musta flipped their shit, knowing there was a _male_ omega in the family; closeminded assholes probably treated you like hell.”

 

Daryl shook his head, unable to vocalize a protest beyond the stream of whimpers that trailed out of him as Shane kissed and sucked his shoulders between words.

 

“‘Ain’t no son of mine bein’ an omega!’ That about right?” Shane assessed, “that’s why they ain’t never let you to the barn. Probably couldn’t afford no suppressants, just had to lock you up. Tried to keep you hidden, hide you away like a shameful secret.”

 

Daryl shook his head, pressing his face deeper into the blanket. He tried to hide in the covers, pulling his hands towards his face.

 

Shane grabbed Daryl by the shoulder and pushed him onto his back, Daryl pulling from his grip and crawling backwards up the bed until Shane wrangled his wrist and pulled it up over his head, pressing it into the pillow. Daryl laid spread beneath him, naked from the waist but with his jeans hanging over one ankle, his chest heaving with breath and his skin red all over. He looked ripe, like an apple Shane wanted to sink into and suck down the juices. The scent of his heat nearly overwhelmed.

 

“They got it all wrong, you ain’t a shameful thing to be kept secret,” Shane uttered, and Daryl just stared at him, prone and well aware, but desiring just the same. He squirmed a little, pulling together his legs, only to have Shane roughly drag them apart again.

 

“You’re a black swan. A golden pearl. You’re a goddamn _treasure_.”

 

Shane all but leapt onto the bed and pinned Daryl, turning his hips sideways and lifting one of his legs, straddling the second and guiding himself in between. Daryl grunted and reached for Shane’s cock, to have his hand smacked away.

 

“Quit fuckin’ around and just do it!” Daryl yelled, his voice jumping an octave. There was desperation in his voice, desire to finally be allowed what his body desired, and the entire implication of it was making Shane dizzy. He started to lead himself inside with the hand not securing Daryl’s thigh, only to stop at just nudging the tip against his hole.

 

“Whatchu want, sweetheart?” Shane asked, “what you really want?”

 

“Put it in,” Daryl growled, and Shane smirked.

 

“Put what in, huh? Whatchu want me to do?”

 

“Your…” Daryl mumbled, and Shane pressed halfway inside. Daryl’s hole accepted his cock easily, sucking down the shaft while Daryl cried.

 

“What’s that you really want, huh? You gonna tell me?”

 

Daryl hid his face in the covers again, face red with desire and now, humiliation. There was nothing better than having this, _knowing_ someone completely, everything they had hidden. Shane smirked and started to pull away, making Daryl yelp and reach for his wrist.

 

“Your… _knot_ ,” Daryl hissed like it was a taboo, and Shane supposed maybe it was, something to illicit fear and also desire. He squeezed another inch inside Daryl’s clenching hole.

 

“F-fuck me,” Daryl panted, “come on, just gimme your knot, knot me, _fuck mmmm—_!”

 

Shane pressed inside until he was hilted, his belly dropping like climbing a goddamn rollercoaster as he was surrounded by the thick, sucking heat. He started to rut, rough and quick but driving deep, deep as he could each time, hearing an unmated omega—possibly even one _yet untouched_ —asking to be fucked practically driving him over the edge in seconds.

 

He watched in utter amazement as Daryl tucked his face into his arm and came again, sobbing as a fresh splurt of cum decorated his inner thigh. This is why male omegas were such an oddity—why even cum like that when they were meant to be bred, to take cock up inside? But it also made them a goddamn fine prize. Shane didn’t regret his choice tonight.

 

Pleasure started to pull at his belly, tightening his muscles. The stars came closer, and suddenly Shane couldn’t hear anything but the driving, aching creaks of the bedframe and the slap of flesh against slick flesh. Daryl was nearly limp, now, muscles in his thighs tightening and flexing only to melt, biting and sighing into the covers as he sobbed in pleasure. Poor omega. Shane wanted to hold and cradle him as much as he wanted to fuck him beyond coherence. He pushed harder, his muscles clenching as he dove deeper, deep enough that his swelling knot was submerged with each thrust, pressure tightening around every nerve in his shaft.

 

“Fuck, oh fuck, you’re good,” Shane puffed, squeezing Daryl’s thigh over his shoulder tight enough to leave plum-sized bruises. Ecstasy burned in his belly, spreading through his muscles as he felt his knot swell to full size until it couldn’t be pulled out. Daryl gasped and reached down, palming blindly until he found his hole, and pulling his fingers away in shock at what he found. Yup, definitely untouched. Probably didn’t even know what a knot looked like. Shane’s head spun, until he was pounding mindlessly, and hard, hips snapping and chin lifting towards the sky as he let out a shout and came, finally, spilling a dose and a second of hot seed into the omega’s body.

 

Daryl was trembling all over, from his hands tangled in the sheets, his aching thighs and clenching belly. He let out shuddering breath after shuddering breath, practically sobbing when Shane moved one last time to lock his knot in close.

 

Shane looked down. Daryl’s bangs covered his forehead, and Shane pushed them away, revealing a sweaty red sheen. Daryl trembled at the touch, whimpering as he reached down to feel his stretched perineum, where the knot held fast inside him.

 

Daryl cried and tried to fight when Shane moved to rearrange them, lowering his thigh in front of him so Daryl was lying on his side with one knee up. “Whoa, now, not goin’ nowhere, least not yet,” Shane chuckled breathlessly as he lied down behind Daryl, locking an arm around his waist while his knot slowly shrank back down.

 

Daryl was wordless, but as Shane stroked his hair on the back of his neck with a curious finger, the omega started to tilt his head, dropping to expose the place to leave a bonding mark. Shane just raised an eyebrow.

 

“Naw, I don’t think so. I’m not up for bonding after just one fuck,” he chuckled, and Daryl immediately turned away, hiding his face in the pillow. It seemed even subconscious that he bared his neck at all, and he was mortified to do so. It was just instinct, however, and Shane couldn’t deny the desire to mouth at that delicious neck, teeth at the traps and nibble the skin behind a blushing ear.

 

Shane sighed and closed his eyes, blood returning to his body as his knot shrunk back down. He pulled out, spilling slick and cum across the sheets in a hideous mess, but it made it easier to lock an arm around Daryl’s chest and hold him close.

 

“I meant it, though,” Shane muttered into Daryl’s messy hair, “ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. In fact, you’re a treasure. Ain’t no one can take away what you are.”

 

Daryl didn’t answer, the back of his neck being increasingly difficult to read. The pleasant pheromones wafting from him painted a clearer picture, however, of an omega still needy with heat, soft and pliant but still brutally fierce. Shane liked the idea of being pushed down by this big omega and worked over, his knot ridden and milked dry.

 

“You done with me?” Daryl asked softly, suddenly, and Shane smiled into his hair.

 

“Naw, not ’til you’re done with me, sweetheart,” he stuck twin fingers into the omega’s leaky hole, feeling the heat and smooth slick capture his hand.

 

Daryl squirmed back onto his hand, seating himself there as his scent turned heavy and fruity again—sour cherries in the sun, warmed tobacco, thick molasses. Shane breathed deep.

 

“Y’all coming to the barn next month?” Shane asked, swirling tiny, languid circles on Daryl’s prostate, feeling his muscles clench and pull gently at his fingers.

 

Daryl didn’t answer right away, and then turned over onto his hip to face Shane, lifting his leg over Shane’s hip so the alpha could keep fingering him.

 

“You gonna be there?” Daryl asked. He pressed his nose into Shane’s throat, breathing deep his scent.

 

Shane smiled, broad and toothy. He licked his lip. “Yeah, I’m gonna be there. Ima be there for sure.”


End file.
